Viewed from the sky, all plots of land look
As if they could belong to anyone
All cornfields carved with purpose
Seem like they were painted
By time and heat
And the rain
A man could get lost out here
But it’s not meant as threat
But rather some kind
Of benediction
How you enter the maze and
Can cheat, can slip through
Stalks if you want to take
The straightest path
But what’s the fun
In finding your way
If it means you stopped
Understanding the shape
Of unfinding, of twists
And turns, and retracing
The steps you took to
The ones you meant
To take
A truth about corn
Is the cobs bind your
Insides and the silk
Unlooses them
Two ills that Each
Cure the other
As if all loss
Has something to find
As if all mazes
Are their own answer